


The Good Fight

by myracingthoughts



Series: Darcy Lewis Bingo [23]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers Tower, Darcy Lewis's iPod, Drunkenness, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Party, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29740548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myracingthoughts/pseuds/myracingthoughts
Summary: Running on more drinks than hours of sleep, Darcy couldn’t quite rememberhowshe’d framed the story to Sam— like the story about the fish that got away, it seemed to change slightly on retellings — but she ended it the same way she always did.An ode to her lost iPod.“No, no, no—” Darcy slurred, nearly spilling the drink she had in her hand as she mimed along to the words. “You don’tunderstand. They don’t evenmakethe iPod Classic anymore. Thousands of songs, just, poof!”Darcy Lewis gets hammered (no, not Mjolnir-related) at an Avengers Tower party. Moral of the story: loose lips tell a lot of embarrassing tales.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Sam Wilson
Series: Darcy Lewis Bingo [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927495
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34
Collections: Darcy Lewis Bingo





	The Good Fight

**Author's Note:**

> This is my last fic for Darcy Lewis Bingo 2020 (this series is now complete!!) and crosses off box A5 - stolen iPod. It also crosses off 'in vino veritas' on my Marvel Fluff Bingo card.
> 
> It’s been sitting in my drafts for _way_ too long, so special thank you to @treaddelicately for talking some sense into me and gently prodding the way only she can do.
> 
> Uh, so yeah, enjoy some drunk, flirty Darcy meeting a very well-dressed Sam Wilson.

Darcy had been in the Tower all of ten hours. 

And, in that time, she’d found out that _three_ hours was apparently all it took for Tony Stark to organize a full-blown party. Or maybe it was a standing Friday night party— Darcy hadn’t really thought to ask — but either way, Darcy Lewis had ended up in a room full of the Avengers, Jane, and a few other super-adjacent team members.

Honestly, it was all kind of a blur.

The dress code seemed to be pretty casual, at least, everything from business apparel to jeans and t-shirts visible in a single head turn as Darcy surveyed the room. So there was no risk of being underdressed. 

But that didn’t entirely put Darcy at ease. She’d already managed to down a drink, trying to calm the inevitable nerves.

Crowds weren’t her forte, which is why Darcy was hanging around the safety of a nearby couch, eyeing a new visitor who slid onto the cushion beside her. He was dressed in a crisp button-up, jeans keeping the outfit business casual. 

_Approachable_ was probably the word she’d use for him at first glance. Maybe even charming once she got to know him. Kind eyes and purposeful accessories said a lot about a man. Nice watch, shined shoes, everything looked tailored to him and she kind of wondered why he’d be hanging back from the rest of the party. Based on the smiles and waves across the room, it seemed like he knew everyone.

Darcy, too, knew exactly who he was, even if they’d never been formally introduced.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” Darcy offered with a toothy grin and her hand. “You’re Sam Wilson, right?”

Sam Wilson took her hand willingly, politely shaking it as he mirrored her smile— and apparently the gap between their teeth. She tried to push back the flush at the realization, blaming it on the drinks and not the off-beat pitter-patter in her chest.

“I am, and you are…?” he leaned in closer, struggling to hear her over the sound system in the background.

Darcy didn’t mind, leaning in to hear his voice and catching a whiff of his cologne. It was almost familiar— something warm, slightly spicy and pleasant.

“Darcy. Darcy Lewis,” she replied, trying not to take his blank look too personally— she was used to having to explain her presence by now. “You might know _of_ me because of the whole London situation.”

Sam simply stared at her.

“New Mexico?” she tried again, forehead creasing. 

Who hadn’t heard about what happened in London? She knew he was new and all, but—

“ _Oh_. With Dr. Foster? Thor? That whole deal?” he waved his hand around like he was trying to quantify it, but Darcy was just pleased he got the reference at all.

“Yes!” Darcy said with a smile. “And you’re the Falcon.”

She tried to hold back the awe in her tone but was pretty sure it was slipping through her haze. As exciting as life adjacent to an Asgardian was, she didn’t get a whole lot of facetime when it came to Avengers. Something about HR policies and her being a little overexcited at the prospect.

Details, details.

“Guilty as charged,” Sam said before taking a sip of his drink, face still screwed up as he mused. “Thought I’d met all the super friends by now. How’d you get roped into this?” Sam gestured to the rest of the Avengers, scattered around the room mingling and chatting.

“Kind of discovered Thor in the middle of New Mexico, tasered him, had my iPod stolen by SHIELD… You know, pretty standard.” 

Sam looked at her like he was waiting for the punchline, taking a sip of his drink when it didn’t come. “Yeah… _Standard_ ,” he replied, looking a bit like he was eyeing an escape.

Darcy sputtered to a halt, realizing that wasn’t what he’d meant at all. Leave it to her to make things even more awkward than possible. _Way to go, Darce._ Leave it to Darcy freaking Lewis to run off the only non-lab person who decided to take pity on her.

“Oh, you meant _tonight_ ,” she said, trying to save it with a nervous chuckle. “I just got back from Europe this morning. Jane’s research is moving into the Tower, so I’m along for the ride.”

Sam shot her a soft smile, eyes landing back on her, “I know the feeling. Enjoying the Big Apple so far?”

“Yep,” Darcy said, popping the ‘p.’ “Glad to be in the city for good, at least for the next little while.”

Leaning back into the couch, Darcy was comforted, at least, by the fact it didn’t look like he was trying to make a run for it. Darcy took the opportunity to inch a little closer to him, ready to blame it on the noise around them if he called her on it.

But he didn’t. 

“So, Darcy Lewis, where are you from?”

Sam shifted in his seat, turning around to give her his full attention. But Darcy didn’t miss the arm that framed the back of the couch, bridging the gap between them. Or the way he leaned in as he spoke, overcompensating, even with the Stark sound system.

So taking this opportunity —as good as any she’d ever had before— she dusted off the signature almost-drunk Darcy charm and set her flirt at a ten.

“Delaware,” Darcy replied, not surprised about the token blank stare that usually followed. “You?”

She didn’t miss the way Sam’s eyes darted from her eyes to her mouth, the way his body angled towards her as they spoke. If she’d managed to pick up anything from her limited SHIELD training (mostly for insurance and liability purposes), she’d say that body language was anything but subtle.

“Just around the corner. Harlem, actually,” he explained.

“And you ended up in DC?”

Sam’s lips twisted into a bit of a smirk, the arm around the back of the couch shifting slightly. She could have sworn he tipped his voice down as he replied, “As crazy as it sounds, I’m kind of glad I did.”

Catching Jane’s eye across the room, Darcy tried to ignore the eyebrow waggle the scientist offered as she turned back to Sam without missing a beat, “I think I know what you mean.”

Sam was good company. That flash of teeth and the way he made her feel like they were the only two in the booth. Well, they _were_ for the most part, with Steve and Natasha sneaking off for an hour at a time while the rest of the extended group milled about the room.

But despite still being jet-lagged from that morning’s flight back from Europe, Darcy was already two drinks deep. She probably would have spilled her college secrets at this point— two more drinks away from unlocking all of high school if anyone asked nicely. 

“Let me top you up?” Sam offered, gesturing towards her glass.

“I don’t know what Steve’s been teaching you, Wilson, but women these days _can_ get their own cocktails,” she smirked, laying the teasing on thick.

“Listen, the last time we all got together like this, there were evil robots— so I’m not taking any chances,” Sam replied swiftly, a smile stretching across his face. “So, _really_ , it’s all in the name of safety.”

“Well, I feel safer already,” Darcy shot back, as her mouth twisted into a sly smile. “I just hope it’s not Elves again. I’ve had a lifetime’s worth of Elves.”

“ _Elves_?” Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Now I know you’re messing with me.”

Darcy shook her head before downing the last of her drink and handing the glass to him, “Dark Elves. London. It’s a long story.”

“Another drink it is,” Sam grinned, hoisting himself off the couch and back to the bar.

Darcy wasn’t sure if it had really been hours since they started talking— it could have been thirty minutes for all she knew, but it felt like they were just in their own little bubble all night. They traded stories back and forth, trying to get the other to call them out on some sort of bullshit, only to realize reality _was_ way crazier than fiction— at least in the Avengers-adjacent world. 

The fuzzier the night became, the more they circled back to some of Darcy’s more ridiculous stories, especially since evil robots were still kind of a sore spot for the group. She started to wonder if she was sailing into rambling territory— that point in her drunkenness when she sounded more like Erik and less like an adorable lab manager with a slightly supernatural past.

But Sam looked intrigued, leaning forward until his face was just a few inches from hers and asking her the question that had probably been on his mind all night.

“So you and Foster, and that whole New Mexico thing. What the hell happened out there?”

Running on more drinks than hours of sleep, Darcy couldn’t quite remember _how_ she’d framed the story to Sam— like the story about the fish that got away, it seemed to change slightly on retellings — but she ended it the same way she always did.

An ode to her lost iPod.

“No, no, no—” Darcy slurred, nearly spilling the drink she had in her hand as she mimed along to her words. “You don’t _understand_. They don’t even _make_ the iPod Classic anymore. Thousands of songs, just, poof!”

OK, yes. Definitely rambling territory, Darcy Lewis. The last person she’d ranted to about this had been Barton, over way too many drinks in a shitty Norwegian bar as she tried to convince him to use his SHIELD connections to replace it somehow. Put in a good word with the bigwigs or something.

Sure, she hadn’t taken into account that SHIELD wasn’t even a thing anymore, but hey, a girl had to try.

At least Sam seemed to be enjoying it, laughing so hard it looked like he hurt himself, clutching at his ribs and nearly falling off the couch. Darcy grabbed his arm, hauling him back onto the sofa with tears in her eyes.

“Well, maybe it’s a chance to discover some new music. Some of the classics, maybe?” Sam challenged. “I’d bet good money Marvin Gaye’s Trouble Man soundtrack would absolutely change your life.”

Darcy sniffed, feigning her best steely look, “Excuse you, bird boy, assuming I haven’t heard the good news. I had Marvin Gaye right between AQUA and a little Nirvana. Did I mention ABBA?”

He looked beyond surprised, amused at the eclectic mix of artists she easily listed off, “Well, think I think I owe you an apology.”

Darcy snorted, shaking her head and brushing it off with a wave of her hand, “Despite double-fisting drinks and being so jet-lagged I’ll probably sleep for the next week, I _do_ have good taste in music, Mr. Wilson.”

“Mr. Wilson, huh?” Sam managed to get out, still grinning. “Never change, Darcy Lewis. You keep fighting the good fight. Maybe you’ll get that iPod back eventually.”

She stopped and just stared at him, hand lingering on his (very toned) forearm. It was like the rest of the room just faded away, the music pulling back, keeping her attention solely on the charming, well-dressed man she’d been talking the ears off for the majority of the party.

Drunk Darcy seemed to take advantage of the opportunity and take charge of the conversation. Downing the last remnants of her drink— probably her last— and setting it down on the table, mind made up.

“You know what, Sam?” Darcy asked, glassy eyes locked on his. “You’re pretty. _Really_ pretty. Anybody ever told you that?”

And to his credit, Sam didn’t shoot her down, gaze dropping to the floor with a breath. “No, they have not, but they do say drunk words are sober thoughts.”

Darcy stopped for a moment with that realization setting in, a bashful blush crossing her cheeks as her voice dipped lower, “Oh _no_. I’m a clinger, aren’t I? Oh god, drunk me is the _worst_.”

She planted her hand down on the couch, trying to get back on her feet so she could run out the door. That’s what people did when they embarrassed themselves beyond belief, right? Because that escape was currently tied with sinking into a pile of goo and slipping through the floorboards— but the logistics on that seemed messy.

Never mind the clean-up.

But Sam set his hand on top of hers as if trying to convince her to stay. 

“Nah, drunk you is pretty cute. Kinda fun, too. Definitely not the worst person to have in a party situation. You can tell sober you I said that, too,” Sam assured with a wry grin.

A warm feeling settled in her chest at the smile he gave her. It seemed different from all the ones earlier in the night. Maybe it was the way his fingers seemed to curl under hers on the couch. Or the way he patted the spot next to him on the sofa, letting her curl into his side.

“Comfy?” he asked.

Darcy hummed in agreement, taking the quiet moment to watch the action around the room.

* * *

Darcy groaned as the slice of sunlight hit her eyes, rolling over to reach for her phone on the nightstand. 

The memory of the night before flooded through her brain at the first squint at her backlight, and she had to hold back a grimace as she wondered just how much of an asshole she’d made herself out to be in front of what Sam dubbed the ‘ _super friends_.’ At least Stark found her entertaining, from what she could remember? Something about a bet and some shots with not enough limes?

 _Anyway_.

Ambling to the kitchen to start her coffeemaker, Darcy spied a notification at the door. Usually, it was a package, a newspaper, sometimes even a stupid fancy Stark party invitation. But when Darcy cracked open her front door, she happened across the red and black box sitting just outside the threshold. It wasn’t much bigger than a can of soda, held together with shiny black ribbon. 

Whoever had wrapped it (or called in a favour for it) had good taste, at least.

She stooped down to grab it, taking it inside before carefully untying the bow and removing the top.

‘ _Might have gotten some help from Stark with sourcing, but hopefully, this helps ease the pain. Welcome to the super friends._

_-S.W._

_PS: Added a couple of my favourite tracks to get you started on rebuilding your library. Keep on fighting the good fight._ ’

With a soft smile— and a slight wince at the headache already forming— Darcy made a mental note to send him a thank you.

And maybe a dinner invite.

Sans drinks.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. All comments, kudos and bookmarks are loved and cherished.
> 
> If you're looking for more of this or any other specific content from me, I also take prompts. You can find my [prompts list and details here](https://pasmonblog.tumblr.com/post/635410523601649664) if you're interested in adding to my WIP list (please do).


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